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HAIKU DIALOGUE – Foreground Focus – Obfuscation (1)

Foreground Focus with Guest Editor Alex Fyffe

Between me and the tiger was a thick pane of glass, and despite that, my heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster. My focus was on the tiger beyond the glass, not the glass itself. Often, we find our attention drawn through one thing and toward another, ignoring the foreground entirely to examine what is on the other side. The idea of this series is to think about the things we normally look through – barriers at the zoo, windows, fences, even the glasses (or contacts!) right in front of our very eyes.

Below is Alex’s selection of poems on the theme of Obfuscation:

misty mountain
unknown whats behind
this beatific smile

Deborah Karl-Brandt
Bonn, Germany

 

after all those wars
the fence
around the cemetery

Eva Limbach
Deutschland

 

summer Moon drops –
for that old man
there are no Roses

Mauro Battini
Pisa, Italy

 

how many types
of fences are there?
silent moon

Barbara Anna Gaiardoni
Verona, Italy

 

sign says
use the back door
oh! roses!

Cindy Putnam Guentherman
Illinois, USA

 

summer window view:
the gray overlay of smoke
dimming the blue sky

Lorraine Schein
Queens, New York

 

59th birthday
I look back at the doors
I didn’t close

Manoj Sharma
Kathmandu, Nepal

 

Zoom meeting
background noise becomes
a part of our poems

Jackie Chou
USA

 

five-star B&B . . .
cobwebs on the inside
of the lampshade

Kathleen Trocmet
Texas, USA

 

peeking through
the forest’s leaves
a new fawn

Eavonka Ettinger
Long Beach, California

 

hand mark
in the condensation
lifting a print

Jerome Berglund
USA

 

morning fog
just the sound
as a trout jumps

William Heath
New Hampshire, USA

 

rusted screen
the tape over a hole
curling

Sharon Ferrante
Florida, USA

 

driving a trail
across the sky—
cracked windshield

petro c. k.
Seattle, Washington

 

through the mist
cursive epitaph
on the aged gravestone

Teiichi Suzuki
Japan

 

there all along the solitary bees

Keith Evetts
Thames Ditton, UK

 

Through the screen door
the gekko gazes in
pixelated

Jenny Shepherd
London, UK

 

in father’s eyes
the heart rate monitor
fading

Bryan Rickert
Belleville, Illinois

 

wall painting the dance of shadow-leaves

Srini S
India

 

staining the asphalt black smell of rain

Vandana Parashar
India

 

Children spilling
Into the playground
Thoughts wander

Rashmi Buragohain
India

 

in the store window
wearing the mannequin’s dress
my reflection

Peggy Hale Bilbro
Alabama, USA

 

black-eyed susan
how can one not see
petals full of sun

Richard L. Matta
San Diego, California

 

fading family snapshots the blur of who’s who

Cynthia Anderson
Yucca Valley, California

 

bread sticks
in pursuit
of spaghetti

Margaret Tau
New Bern, North Carolina

 

mirror portrait
the smile in a glass
of dentures

Carole Harrison
Australia

 

breath on my hand
I see myself
in the old mare’s eyes

Gavin Austin
Australia

 

oscillations
my wife
and my mother-in-law

Charles Harper
Yokohama, Japan

 

unmindful
of the fast car
mating dragonflies

Ravi Kiran
India

 

midsummer
the moth transfixed
with a broken pixel

simonj
UK

 

the morning after
words scrawled across the mirror
in red lipstick

Olivier Schopfer
Geneva, Switzerland

 

morning river walk…
in the golden ripples
a plastic bottle

Keiko Izawa
Japan

 

needlework sampler
decoding the letters
beneath age spots

Hege A. Jakobsen Lepri
Oslo, Norway

 

a few autumn leaves
the red flags
I never saw

Marianne Sahlin
Sweden

 

milky way
how deep the space
between light and dark

Vibeke Laier
Denmark

 

autumn codes
the secret inheritance
encrypted

Lakshmi Iyer
India

 

full moon
through coconut leaves
she touches her neck

Radhika De Silva
Sri Lanka

 

x mark …
that change
in her smile

Samo Kreutz
Ljubljana, Slovenia

 

paint swatches
on the sample board
horizon stardust pasture white

Sari Grandstaff
Saugerties, New York

 

wedding veil
she ignores
all the red flags

Bona M. Santos
Los Angeles, California

 

killdeer’s
broken wing act –
enshrouded field

Alan Harvey
Tacoma, Washington

 

bird in flight…
its wings hover
over a nest

Nancy Brady
Huron, Ohio

 

thinking hard water spots on the shower door

Marcie Wessels
San Diego, California

 

too busy
to visit
too late

Susan Farner
USA

 

rice paper butterfly
shadow-white on
sunlit blinds

De Sousa Grace
QC, Canada

 

infinity symbol
the Padan Plain flows
out the window

Daniela Misso
Italy

 

pinhole projector
shadow bands over
the watermark

Herb Tate
Jersey, UK

 

in a blackbird’s song
I hide
all my broke parts

Adele Evershed
Wilton, Connecticut

 

Friday midnight
my neighbour swearing
at his door lock

Meera Rehm
UK

 

a persistent cough
hiding in plain sight
winter shadows

John Hawkhead
UK

 

sculpted vine circles
decorate the homeless camp—
safety net of holes

Elizabeth Shack
Illinois, USA

 

vanishing
into the sea mist
a fisherman’s footprints

wanda amos
Old Bar, Australia

 

diversion
my thoughts
in the mist

Chittaluri Satyanarayana
Hyderabad, India

 

Sunflowers
yellow will o the wisps
in a fine drizzle

Sudha Devi Nayak
Bhubaneswar, India

 

fireplace
grandfather’s stories have less
and less detail

Slobodan Pupovac
Zagreb, Croatia

 

perching birds
the house vanishing
behind the fence

Chen Xiaoou
Kunming, China

 

flitting through the trees
the twin track lights
of the 9:08 to Waterloo

Ben Oliver
UK

 

watching a kite
soar up in the cloudless sky …
my closed window

Natalia Kuznetsova
Russia

 

fast-flowing river
the extra-loud song
of a thrush

Tony Williams
Scotland, UK

 

white lilies
the way we identify ourselves
in this census

Maya Daneva
The Netherlands

 

after the squall
trapped in the window screen
bits of liquid light

Helen Ogden
Pacific Grove, California

 

pants on fire the politician’s smokescreen

Jenn Ryan-Jauregui
Tucson, Arizona

 

all about her labor pains winter storm

Mona Bedi
Delhi, India

 

lattice weave
the left out pieces
of cinnamon sticks

Amoolya Kamalnath
India

 

calendar ‒
between the days of the month
only one marked

calendario ‒
tra i giorni del mese
solo uno segnato

Maria Cezza
Italy

 

Möbius strip-
the pencil stroke
inside and outside

nastro di Moebius-
il tratto di matita
dentro e fuori

Angiola Inglese
Italy

 

who looks back at me new glasses

C.X. Turner
UK

 

the widow’s face
oh, so delicate
her veil

Kanjini Devi
The Far North, Aotearoa NZ

 

she pulled a thread
… her whole world
unraveled

Jan Stretch
Victoria, Canada

 

pocket radio
somewhere in the static
a ballgame

Richard Straw
Cary, North Carolina

 

vertical crack
in the stained glass
a shard of sun

Allyson Whipple
St. Louis, Missouri

 

predator
and prey’s frozen stare—
butterfly wings

Stephen J. DeGuire
Los Angeles, California

 

initials carved
in the boardwalk
another washed up whale

Kerry J Heckman
Seattle, Washington

 

golden hour
moonbeams animating
a still life

Florin C. Ciobica
Romania

 

tigers getting closer. . .
but the strawberry,
how sweet it was!

Tomislav Maretić
Zagreb, Croatia

 

Join us next week for Alex’s commentary on additional poems, & our next prompt…

 

 

Guest Editor Alex Fyffe teaches high school English in the Houston area. His haiku and senryu have been published in various journals, including Frogpond, Modern Haiku, Failed Haiku, Akitsu Quarterly, and the Asahi Haikuist Network. Some of his favorite short form poets include Issa, whose work he discovered in the intermediate Japanese textbook he used while studying in Hikone, Japan, and Santoka, whose writing introduced him to the liberating concept of “freeform haiku.” Currently, Alex uses haiku in the classroom to ease students into poetry and build their confidence as readers and writers. Alex also posts haiku, including translations of contemporary Japanese haiku, on Twitter @AsurasHaiku.

Lori Zajkowski is the Post Manager for Haiku Dialogue. A novice haiku poet, she lives in New York City.

Managing Editor Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She is Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada, and her debut poetry collection is contractions (Red Moon Press, 2019). Find her at: kjmunro1560.wordpress.com.

The Haiku Foundation reminds you that participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior from all parties. Please see our Code of Conduct policy.

Please note that all poems & images appearing in Haiku Dialogue may not be used elsewhere without express permission – copyright is retained by the creators. Please see our Copyright Policies.

This Post Has 34 Comments

  1. Thank you so much Alex for selecting my haiku ‘full moon through coconut leaves’. As most of the others commented, I too was uncertain about this very innovative theme ‘obfuscation’. Just thought of experimenting with it and I am delighted to see that it is acceptable and would love to get some comments.
    All the haiku you have selected are amazing and I learnt a lot from them.
    I particularly loved the following.
    Eva Limbach’s haiku shows the futility of war over territorial boundaries.

    after all those wars
    the fence
    around the cemetery
    Manoj Sharma’s poem shows how past memories linger even at late fifties and may be he wants to forget the past and start a new spiritual beginning when he steps into sixties.
    59th birthday
    I look back at the doors
    I didn’t close (Manoj Sharma, Kathmandu, Nepal) and the risk taking nature of women when it comes to marriage in Bona Santos’s the ‘wedding veil she ignores red flags ‘ .
    Thank you Alex once again for selecting mine and look forward to reading your commentary next week.

  2. Thank you all for your insights and for enjoying my poem. In this day & age of the easy access to instant gratification, we miss the small stuff that matters. Like Kathabela says, do we still pay pay attention?

    Thanks Alex for choosing my haiku to be a part of these wonderful selection. Kudos to all the poets. And as always, thanks kj & Lori for keeping this series going.

  3. staining the asphalt black smell of rain

    Vandana Parashar
    India

    I suppose it’s common practice to rely on google to figure out what’s going on with a haiku. That’s what I did for this one. I wasn’t sure of the word “staining” and wondered “why not painting?” Google tells me that “staining” is the preferred technique, especially so with reference to the damage water accumulation can do to the installed asphalt. However, I also understand that staining should not be done while it is raining. Or else, the quality of the asphalt paving will be compromised. If that is the case and if that’s what the poet has in mind too, the image that comes to my mind is that she is having a “private” driveway paved and stained. While this is going on, she smells rain and worries about a barrier between her and her stained driveway. It’s the rain that obfuscates her plan. If this understanding is correct, then “private” is an important qualification. If it is a public road that is being paved with asphalt and the municipal authorities are at the job, it is unlikely that a private individual would worry much whether it rains or not. Such thoughts take me away from the world of haiku to that of economics (to which I happen to belong). The conflict between private and public goods is a major problem in political economy.

    Hope I make sense.

  4. wall painting the dance of shadow-leaves

    What captures my attention is the compound expression “shadow-leaves”. I think there is a significant difference between “shadow-leaves” and “shadows of leaves”. The former expression reminds me of the Kurosawa movie “kagemusha”, the shadow-warlord/king. (I am not sure, but “musha no kage” could be more like “shadows of leaves”. Both are shadows, but one seems like a real shadow and the other unreal.) Real shadow is a strange expression of course. But the beauty of your poem appears to lie in the distinction drawn between a real shadow and an unreal shadow. Propelled by these thoughts, I interpreted the poem to be pointing out that the wall painting with its dancing shadow-leaves is a barrier standing in your way. It does not let you watch the dancing real shadows of the real leaves. Am I talking nonsense? Alternatively, going along with the spirit of the prompt, it’s possible that the poet is looking through the wall painting and watching the real dancing shadows of the real leaves.

  5. Thank you again, Alex.

    Highlighting a few:

    unmindful
    of the fast car
    mating dragonflies

    Ravi Kiran

    The human wreckage of nature contrasting with our idyllic view of it; and our/their preoccupation with sex. Splat on the windshield. A season word in it, even.

    rice paper butterfly
    shadow-white on
    sunlit blinds

    De Sousa Grace

    An harmonious arrangement of separated but related things in this moment without time — toriawase. The unexpected phrase ‘shadow–white’ gets the reader’s attention.

    vanishing
    into the sea mist
    a fisherman’s footprints

    wanda amos

    Yūgen, the things we don’t see, with all the underlying associations of ‘fisherman’ and the sea. The old ways; religion even (esp. if you are Christian); fish, too; all vanishing into the obscure. The end of a story, or at least of a chapter? Or the beginning of one?..

    calendar ‒
    between the days of the month
    only one marked

    Maria Cezza

    Readers left to write the story obfuscated between the lines. The significance of that day: a birth, a death, a diagnosis or decision due; the longing for a baby, or not, perhaps. Or perhaps the poet is so lonely even that she has only lunch with an aunt to look forward to. Possibly rather too open, but I enjoyed letting my mind roam over this one.

    All of these are suggestive, detached, evocative yet without ‘obvious’ triggers of emotion, and rely on images.

  6. Of course I am honoured to be among the top 75 or so entrants this time, but I remain unsure as to why. Was my reference recognized? Was it the image, the structure, or the semantics? I much prefer your second step, with the editor’s comments on a smaller, more selective set of submissions, which is much more informative.

    1. Unfortunately, it would be almost impossible to offer valuable commentary on every single poem that gets selected, so only a handful are set aside for that purpose. However, I do try to respond to a few others here in the comments when people bring them up, and since you have specifically asked for commentary on your submission, I’ll explain my thinking when I added it to the acceptance file.

      oscillations
      my wife
      and my mother-in-law

      To answer your questions, I didn’t pick up on any reference/allusion in the poem, but I did appreciate the structure, opening with an interesting one-word fragment (“oscillations”) which is then juxtaposed with the wife and her mother. The poem made me laugh — it felt like a fresh way of expressing an old idea about the fluctuating resemblance between spouses and their parents. I thought it connected to the theme of “obfuscation,” considering the ambiguity presented between the wife/parent. I’m not sure if I misread your intentions or failed to pick up on an intended reference, but this was how I experienced the poem and why I decided it was a good fit for the column. Hope that helps.

  7. Applauding these three wonderful poets

    For their fresh fresh lively awareness and expression. Bona’s haiku eye-opening I’m its simplicity and strength. Age old afvice…pay attention to red flags! But do we??

    Tha k you Alex for so richly engaging in this doLogue and all your thoughts and sharing of your own experience. I realize more and more a sensitive ffortless approach is really not to overthink or obfuscate our own reactions but to simply feel look and listen. Sometimes even a really simple moment can be obscured by over working

    wedding veil
    she ignores
    all the red flags

    Bona M. Santos
    Los Angeles, California

    Jackie is able to identify this practice as fitting this theme;

    of paying attention and using rather than being irritated by distractiond( We do this at our own meetings!

    Zoom meeting
    background noise becomes
    a part of our poems

    Jackie Chou

    USA

    and the delight of delights…eating the strawberry with Tomislav Maretic! Before that famous old zen tiger gets us.

    tigers getting closer. . .
    but the strawberry,
    how sweet it was!

    Tomislav Maretić
    Zagreb, Croatia

  8. So many amazing haiku – had difficulty finding a favourite!

    after all those wars
    the fence
    around the cemetery

    Eva Limbach
    Deutschland
    ….so poignant in these troubled times!

    and

    wall painting the dance of shadow-leaves

    Srini S
    India
    ……. I watch this every morning and have yet to come up with a haiku – so lovely!

    Thank you Alex for publishing my haiku – and choosing so many beautiful haiku

  9. Thank you, Alex, for the wonderful selections. There were so many beautiful haiku on this topic. I loved this one. It left me mesmerized, on a beach, realizing that the impermanence of all living things, is, perhaps, the greatest obfuscation we face.

    vanishing
    into the sea mist
    a fisherman’s footprints

    wanda amos
    Old Bar, Australia

  10. Thanks for selecting a poem of mine, Alex, and thanks also for your comments, Sari and simonj. I’m glad my poem resonated with you as much your poems and those of all the others have resonated with me.

    Reading everyone’s work and subsequent comments has helped to “crack the code” of the obfuscation prompt. I’m looking forward to reading the remaining selections and comments based on this prompt next week and seeing what the new challenging prompt will be.

    By the way, since writing my poem (with helpful sounding-board advice from my wife), I’ve been working on an expository essay (NOT a haibun) about the obfuscation (i.e., confusion and gaslighting) I faced as a directionless teenager growing up in the mid-1960s. The essay includes brief stories about (1) baseball games I could only listen to on my pocket radio, (2) a youth Bible revival I attended in person at the baseball stadium I so wished to see baseball games in, and (3) a national political campaign for which my mom and I worked as volunteers and during which we had an unexpected encounter with the candidate near the campaign’s end.

    My poem served as a catalyst for the essay and is used as the essay’s epigraph. Here’s the opening paragraph:

    “Back in the 1960s, I’d fall asleep while listening to pop tunes turned down low on one of the little tinny transistor radios my parents had given to my sister and me. And 60 years on, I still retain a fond, but fuzzy memory of also listening on my radio to Columbus Jets minor league baseball games.”

    I’m writing these types of spur-of-the-moment nostalgic essays in my retirement to share with my kids and a few remaining old friends. This one is titled, “Summer of ‘64: The Confessions of a Confused and Gaslit Teenager.” Writing them is fun to do, especially because I’m not worried about sending them anywhere to be published, except maybe an inbox. I highly recommend writing little essays to share with family and friends and as an additional therapeutic activity to solving the daily Wordle (which, by the way, might be another obfuscation?).

    1. Sorry about a typographical error in the first paragraph. I left out the word “as.”

      “Thanks for selecting a poem of mine, Alex, and thanks also for your comments, Sari and simonj. I’m glad my poem resonated with you as much AS your poems and those of all the others have resonated with me.”

    2. Thank you for sharing, Richard. Your essay sounds fascinating. And what a wonderful gift for friends and family to receive these detailed dives into your life and thoughts. I think this is a good practice for anyone to keep.

  11. summer window view:
    the gray overlay of smoke
    dimming the blue sky
    /
    Lorraine Schein
    Queens, New York
    /
    This haiku is quite relatable since the Canadian wildfires have triggered an air quality alert where I live, in Ohio.

  12. Möbius strip-
    the pencil stroke
    inside and outside
    /
    nastro di Moebius-
    il tratto di matita
    dentro e fuori
    /
    Angiola Inglese
    Italy
    /
    /
    I always enjoy a mathematical haiku.

  13. there all along the solitary bees

    Brilliant from Keith Evetts. Fantastic use of singular vs plural to demonstrate what we see but don’t see – the essence of haiku. A Touchstone-worthy haiku!

  14. Wow, Alex, honored to be included amongst so many excellent selections. I’m glad my going only with obfuscation worked out as later I worried it had to be ekphrastic. Silly me, you always choose such a brilliant array.

    Right away, I was stopped in my tracks by

    after all those wars
    the fence
    around the cemetery

    Eva Limbach
    Deutschland

    Powerful enough on its own. It packed an even bigger punch seeing where it’s poet was from.

  15. Thank you, Alex, for including my poem! I wasn’t sure what exactly I was supposed to write, so I just wrote what the picture told me.

    I loved this one by Tomislav Maretić, involving more than one sense organ.

    tigers getting closer. . .
    but the strawberry,
    how sweet it was!

    Zagreb, Croatia

    1. Many people seem to agree that the obfuscation prompt was quite… obfuscated. But there were many wonderful submissions, anyway, so I think it all worked out. I liked your ekphrastic approach that brought the scent of cinnamon to this week’s fare.

      Maretić’s poem is an allusion to a Zen koan about a man hanging on the side of a cliff by a vine, a tiger waiting above and a tiger waiting below to eat him while a mouse is slowly gnawing through the vine. And in that moment in which most people would be panicked, he spots a ripe strawberry, plucks it, and finds joy in eating it. The allusion works well with the theme, too, I think, as the tigers nearly obfuscate the pleasures that can be found in the moment, and perhaps they would have for another. But Maretić reminds us not to obsess over the existential dread of what we can’t avoid and find the strawberry in front of us while we can.

      1. Thank you for explaining the allusion, Alex. I liked it before, but now I love it!

  16. pocket radio
    somewhere in the static
    a ballgame

    Richard Straw

    Recollections of when I were a lad…

  17. There were a few similar submissions concerning red flags or the idea of red flags (one of which you will see next week!). The other one up above is:
    .
    a few autumn leaves
    the red flags
    I never saw
    .
    Marianne Sahlin
    Sweden
    .
    For this one, I appreciated the connection between red flags and red leaves. Someone maybe feeling the autumn of their life (or just the ending of a period of time) looking back regretfully on the things she didn’t notice until it was too late.

    Santos’s poem is similar but the perspective is from someone who is actively ignoring things that will cause problems down the road, whereas Sahlin’s poem is someone from the point of view of someone who has already suffered the consequences. The two work together like before and after images.

    And I agree with your comments on Straw’s poem–it’s always refreshing when senses other than sight create the effect, especially when they’re accomplished so well.

  18. Congratulations to all the poets who were not as confused by the prompt as I was. There are so many haiku here that helped explain the idea of obfuscation well. Though I understood it in principle, the haiku chosen make it clearer; thanks.

    I particularly loved Angiola’s
    Mobius strip-
    the pencil stroke
    inside and outside

    I love the idea of the Mobius strip for the way it works. It’s rather like an eutectic mixture in pharmaceutical compounding. Two solids when mixed becoming a liquid. Now that I write this, a haiku is in the works.

    Thanks Alex for choosing one of mine, seeing something in it. Again, congratulations to all.

    1. Hi, Nancy. There were multiple reasons poems were accepted for this prompt. For instance, some poems were chosen because they seemed to be interacting with the artwork itself, and others were chosen because of their take on the topic of obfuscation more generally. I found your poem to be an effective ekphrastic haiku inspired by the provided artwork–one thing (such as an X, or wings) over another thing (such as a background, or a nest). I also thought there was some ambiguity as to what the bird is doing there–is the nest home, or is the bird hoping to infiltrate another’s home? Why is it hovering there? So I thought it worked with the theme.

      1. Thanks Alex for explaining your choices. I thought the non-ekphrastic ones really showed what you were looking for and made the idea of obfuscation clearer in my mind. I learned from reading them, and isn’t that the point, or at least one of points, of this column and website? To learn and grow as we make our way through the world of haiku, and by extension, life? I would like to think so, at least for myself. Ancora imparo.

        Thanks again for selecting mine, and for reading the many haiku you do. It’s not easy. Thanks too to Kathy and Lori for their expertise helping guest editors. They are invaluable.

    2. Thanks to Alex for sharing my .
      And thanks to Nancy Brady who appreciated it… I too didn’t quite understand what we had to write to show this “obfuscation”, then I let myself slide over this tape which always fascinates me and which I really liked to present in class to the my pupils.
      The hiku presented were very beautiful, in particular I really liked the image of the Po Valley entering through the window, proposed by Danela Misso.

      1. Thank you, Angiola for commenting on my haiku! Your haiku caught my eye, too.
        Congratulations to all the poets here! A stunning selection.

  19. Thank you Alex for including my haiku this week. And much thanks to Kathy and Lori for all your work on this Haiku Dialogue which I look forward to each week. Congratulations to all the poets here. So so much great work. I love this haiku, the bridal veil conveys multilayered symbolism and the language play of the “red flags” is wonderful:

    wedding veil
    she ignores
    all the red flags

    Bona M. Santos
    Los Angeles, California
    This one is special to me in how it uses hearing, a sense other than sight, on the theme of obfuscation. It is just a precious haiku pulling up so many memories but also of the moment:
    pocket radio
    somewhere in the static
    a ballgame

    Richard Straw

    1. There were a few similar submissions concerning red flags or the idea of red flags (one of which you will see next week!). The other one up above is:
      .
      a few autumn leaves
      the red flags
      I never saw
      .
      Marianne Sahlin
      Sweden
      .
      For this one, I appreciated the connection between red flags and red leaves. Someone maybe feeling the autumn of their life (or just the ending of a period of time) looking back regretfully on the things she didn’t notice until it was too late.

      Santos’s poem is similar but the perspective is from someone who is actively ignoring things that will cause problems down the road, whereas Sahlin’s poem is someone from the point of view of someone who has already suffered the consequences. The two work together like before and after images.

      And I agree with your comments on Straw’s poem–it’s always refreshing when senses other than sight create the effect, especially when they’re accomplished so well.

      1. Thank you for choosing my haiku, Alex, and for this comment on it. I really liked Santos’s “before image”, and I am now looking forward to the third poem concerning the idea of red flags.

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